


Flashes of Love

by youneverknewthename



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Miya Atsumu, Blushing, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Bottom Sugawara Koushi, Chaptered, Dinner, Everyone Is Gay, Feel-good, Gay, Gay Male Character, Haikyuu!! AU, Happy Ending, Heart-to-Heart, Heartwarming, M/M, Model, Modeling, Photography, Restaurants, Romance, Shyness, Slow Burn, Top Miya Atsumu, Top Sawamura Daichi, Travel, Wholesome, World Travel, hi, photographer, somuchblushingitellyou
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youneverknewthename/pseuds/youneverknewthename
Summary: Miya Atsumu and Koshi Sugawara: ModelsKyoomi Sakusa and Sawamura Daichi: Photographer and AssistantPlans: Out the Window
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sawamura Daichi & Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. meetings

**Author's Note:**

> -Updated every 2 weeks with a new chapter NEXT UPDATE: Chapter 3, March 5  
> -Keep an eye on rating and warnings - explicit content may be coming down the line  
> -I'm bad with formatting on this site, so please excuse any mistakes, I will be doing my best to adapt over time  
> -Questions welcome  
> -Yes the title is corny no I couldn't think of a better one  
> -I love you  
> -uuuuuuuhhhh  
> -Thank

Daichi Sawamura tapped his foot on the floor, arms crossed as he glared at the photographer in front of him, who was busy fiddling with the lens on a large, grey camera.

“You’re distracting me,” the photographer said, voice calm and measured. He twisted the camera’s long, bulky lens, and, hearing it click into place, turned to Daichi, sighing. “That won’t make them get here faster, you know.”

Daichi closed his eyes and held his foot still. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “This is just a big shoot; it’s making me nervous.” He started to roll up the sleeves of his soft, cream-colored shirt, pushing the fabric past his elbows. “I want to stay on track.”

“Relax,” the photographer said, peeking at a glowing laptop screen to his left, then surveying their accommodations with a quick glance. They were in a small, rectangular, windowless room, with one side dominated by a sweeping, white sheet. The other was occupied by Daichi and the photographer, as well as a bundle of camera equipment and props, including a large fan and various chairs of differing shapes and sizes. The photographer pointed at a simple, wooden stool. “Can you hand that to me?”

Daichi obliged, lifting the stool with a single hand and holding it at arm’s length for him to take. He nodded at a surgical mask hanging off the corner of the laptop’s screen. “Mask,” he said.

“What?” the photographer asked, looking up from the stool as he went to place it at the center of the white sheet. Seeing the mask, he went back to the task at hand. “Ah,” he said, squatting down to adjust the stool’s feet, sliding them several centimeters to one side. “Thank you.” Just as he moved to grab the mask, there was a hard knock at the door, startling him.

“I got it,” Daichi said, throwing his head back. “Finally!” he exclaimed as he went to the door. Opening it, he found himself face-to-face with two men, one at least six feet tall with hooded, slightly droopy eyes, the other half a foot shorter with a bright, wide smile.

“Hi!” the shorter one said, extending a hand. “Sorry we’re late, traffic was real nasty.” He elbowed the taller one in the side. “And this one wanted coffee.”

“Hey!” the taller one snapped, indignant. “You know it’s early!”

Daichi let out a nervous laugh as he shook the outstretched hand. “No worries guys, we’re just glad you made it.” He stepped to the side and motioned for them to enter. “Please, come in, get comfortable.” His eyes followed the shorter one as he made a beeline for the stool the photographer had so carefully placed. “We’re very lucky to have you here, Mr. Sugawara.” He turned to the taller one, who was slurping the last dredges of his iced coffee through a straw with a wild look in his eyes. “You as well, Mr. Atsumu.

“Please, call me Koshi,” Sugawara said, grinning, taking off a thin, black sweatshirt and draping it over the stool.

“Is there a trashcan in here?” Atsumu asked, eyes darting about the room. When he spotted the photographer, hunched over the laptop, he gestured at him with his empty cup. “S’that the photo guy?”

Daichi cleared his throat. “Yes, ah, Kyoomi, why don’t you come introduce yourself.” He turned to Atsumu. “He’s not very talkative, and he doesn’t –“

Before he could finish, Atsumu strode forward and reached for Kyoomi’s hand, to which the man responded by backpedaling and holding up his hands while shaking his head.

“Er?” Atsumu said, an eyebrow raised.

“Ah, he doesn’t like to touch-“

“S-Sorry,” Kyoomi stuttered, voice muffled slightly by the mask. “I don’t like to touch other people very much.” He clasped his hands together. “But it is nice to meet you.” He glanced to the side. “Uh, what was your name again?”

“Miya Atsumu,” Miya said. He smirked. “Must not be very fun, not touching people.”

Suddenly, Koshi was at his side, hand gripping his shoulder, knuckles white. “Miya,” he said, staring daggers at the man. “What we are not going to do is insult the photographer, okay?” He looked at Kyoomi, apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Miya can be a bit inconsiderate with his words sometimes.”

Miya slapped Koshi’s hand. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll be nice, happy?”

Daichi smiled, internally cursing himself for not warning them beforehand of Kyoomi’s germaphobia. “No hard feelings, right Kyoomi?” he said, praying the photographer wasn’t too rattled. “Kiyoomi?” He turned around and saw Kyoomi sitting on the floor, legs crossed, laptop on his lap. “Kiyoomi?” he repeated.

“Can they just get ready?” Kiyoomi asked, not looking up

Daichi nodded, tugging at his jean’s waistband. “Yeah, uh.” He looked around. “We got the underwear around here somewhere.”

“In your bag,” Kyoomi said.

“Ah.” Daichi stooped down and rooted around in his small duffel bag for a moment, before standing back up with several pairs of colorful underwear held in his hand. “Do you guys want us to step out while you change?” he asked, handing off the undergarments to Koshi, who flashed a quick smile. “The sizes should be right.”

“Nah,” Miya replied, shaking his head.

“Yes, actually,” Koshi said, looking directly into Miya’s eyes. “That would be great.”

“Okay!” Daichi quickly said. “Come on Kyoomi, let’s go wait outside!” Kyoomi grumbled something unintelligible, but stood up and snapped his computer shut in one motion, brushing past the other three in a huff. “Just give us a yell when you’re ready, okay?” Daichi said, watching him slip out the door. Not waiting for a response, he rushed after the photographer.

Miya cocked an eyebrow as the door swung shut with a loud _clang_. He turned to Koshi, who was already in the process of undressing, unbuttoning his white dress shirt with quick, precise hand movements. “I like ‘em. They seem nice.”

Koshi shrugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. His body was slender, lean, and well kempt. Muscles lingered just beneath his skin, making their presence known as they formed shallow ridges and trenches on his torso, but never dominating his silhouette. “I don’t think they like you,” he remarked as he moved on to his jeans, deftly undoing the fly.

Miya rolled his eyes and pulled off his shirt, a black tee, exposing his muscular upper body. He was wider than Koshi, his shoulders broad and imposing.

“No one’s gonna want you to model for them if you keep packing on muscle,” Koshi said, kicking his pants to one side. He rifled through the underwear left for them, then selected a dark grey pair, examining the waistband. “Small, good.”

Miya flexed a bicep. “Nah,” he replied, reaching for the underwear pile. He pulled out a random pair, some black and yellow boxers covered in bright red pairs of lips. “Shit, didn’t realize we’d be doing this kinda stuff.”

Koshi sighed, removing his own underwear and tossing it on top of his pants. “We are modeling underwear,” he said, putting on the grey pair. “I don’t really know what you expected.” He looked down and examined the fabric, rubbing his fingers along the seams. “By the way Miya, maybe we could try and be a little nicer to these guys?”

“We?” Miya stepped into the jockstrap. “You mean me.” He pulled it up and tugged at the fabric around his crotch. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious,” Koshi said, stern, crossing his arms. “I mean, look at this studio. It’s not exactly the nicest place, they clearly only got us here because the company shelled out for us and contracted these two for nickels and dimes.” He ruffled his hair. “They’re probably a little nervous, you know?”

Miya waved him off, shooting him a wink. “All set!” he boomed, voice clattering against the concrete walls.

“Okay!” a muffled voice called back.

Koshi slapped Miya’s stomach. “Be nice!” he growled.

“Go away!”

The door swung open and in walked Kyoomi, followed by Daichi, who’s hand rested on the photographer’s back.

“Okay, why don’ you get ready Kyoomi,” Daichi said, gesturing at the stool. “And one of you guys can get in front of the camera.”

Miya raised a hand. “I’ll go!”

“You aren’t twelve years old, Miya,” Koshi said, shaking his head as the man strode over and sat on the stool.

“Ah, okay,” Daichi said. “So, I think we are going to start with no stool today.”

“Shit, sorry,” Miya replied, jumping off the stool and shoving it to one side with his foot.

“No worries.” Daichi turned to Kyoomi, who was holding his camera, quietly observing Miya. “What do you think? Any props you want?”

Kyoomi held the camera up to his face. “Nope,” he answered. He lowered the camera for a moment and motioned at Miya. “Get on your toes, squat down,” he ordered.

A grin burst onto Miya’s face. “Bossy,” he started to say, but, catching a look from Koshi, stopped himself and squatted down, hands on his thighs.

“Less happy,” Kyoomi said. “Give me expressionless.”

“So,” Koshi said, turning to Daichi. “What exactly do you do here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I, uh,” he said, eyes fixed on Miya as the camera clicked and a flash flared out, causing Miya to blink. “I guess you could say I’m Omi’s assistant.” He coughed, banging a fist against his chest. “Kyoomi, sorry.” He glanced at Kyoomi as he gave Miya more directions. “That’s my nickname for him.” Clasping his hands in front of him as his arms hung slack, he frowned. “He’s, er, a bit of a germaphobe, so I help him with stuff that he has a hard time with.”

Koshi smiled. “That’s kind of you,” he said.

“Eh,” Daichi replied. “We’ve been friends for years. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Doesn’t make it any less kind,” Koshi said, glancing at him. “Say,” he said, changing the subject. “Are you guys getting paid well for this?” He held up a hand. “If you’re comfortable sharing.” He watched as Miya sat down on the ground, one leg tucked inwards while the other was stretched out straight. The camera flashed again.

“Lean back on your hands,” Kyoomi directed.

“Wait,” Koshi said. He looked up at Daichi, who was standing stiffly, observing. “What’s with the lighting in here?”

Daichi laughed and nodded. “Kyoomi has a very particular style, which is often why people go for us – he doesn’t take your everyday glamour shots.”

“I always appreciate when a photographer puts their own, unique spin on things,” Koshi said, eyes wide. “Gets me excited to actually model.”

“I can imagine it gets boring sometimes, no? Doing the same poses and whatnot over and over?”

Koshi giggled. “Not at all!” he said. “Every shoot is different. It keeps us on our toes, you know?”

Daichi tore his gaze away from the shoot and looked at Koshi. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on him, noticing the slight dimples in his cheeks and little lines that creased his face through the smile. “Yeah,” he mumbled, the word tumbling out of his mouth.

Koshi reached an arm around to scratch his back. “Huh?”

“Uh,” Daichi spluttered, turning red. He looked away, wiping his hands on the sides of his pants. “Sorry, I was, uh, distracted.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Daichi fidgeted, tapping the floor with his right foot. “I’m, uh, not used to working with underwear models.” He felt his cheeks burn. “It’s a little distracting.” His body stiffened when Koshi burst out laughing.

“Oh gosh!” Koshi said, smiling. “I didn’t realize!” His smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “Was I distracting you, Mr. Daichi?”

“No!” Daichi exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “I mean, yes, but.”

“Don’t worry!” Koshi replied, stifling a giggle. “Really, I get it. You aren’t the first and by no means the last.”

Daichi sighed, rubbing his face red with his hands. “God, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.” He smiled ruefully. “If it wasn’t already obvious, we aren’t experts…” he said, trailing off. “Oh,” he added. “Daichi is my first name, by the way, if you’d rather use that.”

“Sounds good,” Koshi said, nodding. He watched Miya run a hand through his hair, fingers mingling with the golden strands on top of his head. “Miya has always been a very natural model,” he remarked.

“Really?” Daichi replied, relieved at the change in conversation.

Koshi shrugged, then nodded. “Some people just have a way of making you look at them, I guess.” He looked at his bare feet on the cold, concrete floor. “Don’t get me wrong, he obviously has the body for it, but his cockiness, the way he looks at the camera, can be oddly captivating.” He glanced at Daichi. “He’s sexy and he knows it.”

“I could say the same about you,” Daichi shot back. Realizing what he said, he shook his head fiercely. “You could say that about any model, really.” He grunted. “That probably sounded weird. It just, I don’t know, sounded like you don’t feel like you’re as good as him.”

Koshi chuckled and sighed. “The fact is, I’m not as good as him. He’s the face of how many brands? How many people would instantly recognize that blonde with the black undercut? That’s not a bad thing, though. There’s always gonna be someone better than you, and that’s okay. I support him in his endeavors and he’s supportive of mine.”

“That sounds dangerously close to a P.R. statement,” Daichi said.

Koshi shrugged again. “What else can I say? We’re friends and we like working together.” He clicked his tongue and gave a thumbs up to Miya, who stood up and stretched. “Looks like it’s my turn.”

Daichi watched him swap places with Miya, Koshi’s words running through his head on repeat. He was still new to this world, he had to admit, but wasn’t Koshi being too hard on himself? Miya may be handsome, but Koshi was…beautiful. What was so special about Miya, anyways? There were certainly thousands of others just like him in the modeling business, with their perfect bodies and cocky attitudes.

As Kyoomi directed Koshi to grab the stool, Daichi silently observed, his eyes trailing down Koshi’s body. He found it far more commanding of attention than Miya’s. To use Koshi’s words – captivating. Maybe it was the soft, grey hair, or maybe it was the birthmark beneath his left eye. Maybe it was the way he looked into the camera, an almost curious look in his eyes. Maybe it was the elegant way he moved, every movement smooth and unhindered.

“Stop that,” Daichi whispered. Koshi’s a model, he told himself. He’s a person, not an object to be examined. He’s doing his job. He’s a coworker, no, a client.

His train of thought was interrupted by Miya, who clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey,” Miya said, voice rocketing into his skull. “I hope you guys are ready to go out tonight.”

“Wha-?” Daichi said absentmindedly.

“We always take the crew out for dinner after a photoshoot,” Miya replied, grinning. “As a thank you.”

“Ah,” Daichi said, finally coming back down to Earth. He snapped his fingers. “I don’t know if Kyoomi will want to, but I’m up for it.”

Miya’s eyes sparkled as the camera flashed. “I sure hope he comes,” he said, sounding as if there were still words lingering on his tongue.

“It would be good for him,” Daichi agreed.

Miya turned his attention back to the shoot. “Well, we can figure things out when things have wrapped up here.”

“Yeah!” Daichi replied, suddenly excited to have an opportunity to socialize. As the conversation quieted, however, both men falling silent, he couldn’t help but remember Koshi’s words. Not as good as Miya? he thought. I think you’re better.


	2. out

Daichi exhaled, imagining a cloud of his breath rising past his face in the cool, quiet, night air. He shifted in his seat, an iron park bench, letting both feet fall flat on the sidewalk in front of him.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Kyoomi pouted, using a finger to hold his mask below his mouth. “I hate restaurants. Too many people, too dirty.”

Daichi cracked a smile as he surveyed the shadowed park grounds, trees lining a wide pathway and bushes poking through the shadows as intermittent streetlights illuminated small patches of space. “They wanted to treat us,” he said, pulling down the sleeves of his sweatshirt and grabbing the ends with his fingers. “Free dinner, if nothing else.” He glanced at Kyoomi, who was glaring at the sidewalk, a gentle breeze disturbing his wavy, jet black hair and revealing a pair of moles above his right eye. “And I thought it would be good for you,” he admitted.

“Of course,” Kyoomi sighed.

“Hey! They seem like nice guys!”

Kyoomi touched his bright, yellow and green jacket, as if he was thinking. “That Miya guy is annoying as hell, but the other seemed ok.”

Swiping a hand over his face to hide a smile, Daichi nodded sagely. “Miya is definitely, er, different,” he said. “Koshi is really nice, though.” He turned to Kyoomi. “Did you enjoy shooting them?”

“Eh,” Kyoomi said, leaning forward and letting his mask snap back into place. For a moment, he was silent, eyes looking at nothing in particular. “It was interesting,” he finally said. “They were really easy to work with, and Miya’s personality comes through the camera very well.” He looked up at the trees as their leaves rattled in the breeze. “But it was very strange, shooting people who were nearly naked.”

Daichi looked at him, curious. “Did it make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No,” Kyoomi quickly said. “It was the opposite, actually. I felt strangely comfortable with them.”

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Really?’

“I know, I was expecting worse myself.”

Daichi rested a hand on Kyoomi’s back and grinned. “I’m glad,” he said. He watched a woman walk past them, a tiny dog straining against a leash held tightly in her hand. It looked at him for a moment, beady eyes evaluating him, before abruptly deciding he wasn’t that interesting and hurrying along on its walk.

“Hey!” someone called, startling him.

“They’re here,” Kyoomi muttered.

Daichi nodded as he spotted Miya and Koshi walking down the sidewalk towards them, Miya waving frantically, while Koshi shook his head, exasperated.

As the pair walked up, Miya broke away, leaping towards Daichi and Kyoomi, landing in front of them with a loud thump.

“Hey guys,” Koshi said, adjusting a red baseball cap he had pulled low over his face. “Sorry, Miya is a little energetic.”

Miya tore off an identical hat, tossing it up into the air and letting it fall onto the concrete. “I’m so hungry guys, you better be ready.”

“Where are we going?” Kyoomi asked, looking at Miya with a blank look in his eyes.

Miya leaned down to him, at which point he cowered away, pressing himself into the bench as much as possible. “Rooftop reservations at The Scorpion,” Miya said, grinning.

Kyoomi averted his eyes, shooting Daichi a pleading look.

Koshi shivered, motioning down a nearby street as several cars drove past, leaving behind faint clouds of exhaust. “It’s only a couple of blocks away, let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Daichi agreed. “Why don’t we get going, Kyoomi.”

“Let’s,” the photographer growled, eyeing Miya, who was spinning round on his heels, whistling.

The quartet set off for the restaurant, winding down the park pathway before stepping onto a side street lined with small businesses, some lit up and open, displaying various wares in their windows. Pots and pans, luxury clothing, and jewelry stared back at the group, and Daichi realized he had never been in this part of the city before. As if reading his mind, Koshi pointed at a diamond encrusted necklace hanging in one window.

“This area is a little, well, upscale,” he commented. “Are you unfamiliar with it?”

“Oh, completely,” Daichi laughed. “I don’t think I could afford half this stuff, if not less.”

Koshi spun around and continued walking, now backwards. “I can imagine,” he said, smiling. He spun back around and threw up his hands. “A benefit of money is that you can see a lot of things you never would have.”

“You don’t say,” Kyoomi said. He stared at Miya’s back, an angry skull staring back at him. “Miya,” he said.

“Yeah?” the man replied, turning his head slightly.

“Did you choose this place?”

Miya slowed his steps and looked back. “Why do you ask?”

Kyoomi pointed ahead of them. “Beause this place looks far too classy for someone like you.”

Daichi followed his finger, and found himself staring up at a several story high building, every inch covered in something glowing and sharp. Gleaming lights lined its edges, reflecting off glass panels that hung off the sides. Minimal cube lights flanked the doorway, and, peering through a window, Daichi saw them hanging over every table.

Miya’s half-lidded eyes gored through Kyoomi like those of a tired parent. “How rude,” he said.

“Uh,” Daichi interjected. “Aren’t we a little underdressed?” he asked, watching a suited man and a woman in a sparkling blue dress walk inside.

Miya shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “We have rooftop reservations, remember?”

Seeing the confused look on Daichi’s face, Koshi chimed in. “The rooftop is relatively private, and we won’t be around all these other people,” he said. “I figured it might be better for Kyoomi that way.”

“Thanks,” Kyoomi said, brightening some.

After stepping inside the restaurant, they were ushered up several flights of stairs, surrounded by glimmering, wall-mounted lights, and signed pictures of celebrities hanging on the walls.

“How did I never know about this place?” Daichi remarked as they emerged onto the rooftop, a wide-open space before them.

“Never had a reason to,” Miya offered, smiling at the hostess as she directed them to a round glass table.

Kyoomi produced a wipe from one of his pockets and quickly wiped down his chair, making it over the entire surface with only a few, precise strokes. “Better,” he said to himself as he sat down.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” the hostess exclaimed, eyes wide with worry. “Please, accept my apologies-“

Kyoomi cut her off with a wave. “It was perfectly clean, thank you,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, confused, fingers tightening around a pen in her hand.

Kyoomi glanced at her and smiled beneath his mask. “Just a personal thing,” he assured her.

“O-Of course,” she stuttered. “Well, your server will be right with you!”

Koshi flashed a bright smile as she walked away. “Thanks!” he called. Turning back to the group, he directed his attention at Kyoomi. “So,” he said. “How long have you been taking pictures?”

Kyoomi fiddled with his wipe, folding it into a neat square before sticking it back in his pocket. “Since high school,” he said. He thought for a moment. “Nine years or so.”

“You’re what, 25?” Miya asked, leaning his elbows on the table. “Same age as me,” he said, grinning.

Kyoomi gave him a blank look. “Great,” he said. Slowly pulling off his mask, he exhaled sharply. “24, actually.”

“Actually,” Daichi cut in. “Almost 25.”

Miya turned to Daichi, shooting Kyoomi a glance that was promptly ignored. “How old are you, then?” he asked.

“Me?” Daichi asked, surprised. “Uh, I’m 26.”

Kyoomi raised a hand. “Actually,” he said, voice mimicking Daichi’s deep tones. “Just barely 26.”

Koshi leaned back in his chair, causing it to screech against the roof. “Birthday soon?”

“No,” Daichi said, shaking his head. “It was last month.”

“Oh? Did you celebrate?”

Daichi let out a little laugh. “I didn’t,” he said. “We had a shoot that day.” His face fell. “It’s alright though,” he said, smiling. “Omi and I still went for a beer afterwards.” He looked up at Koshi. “How about you?” he asked. “How old?”

“24,” the model replied, winking. “Unfortunately, my birthday isn’t for another six months.” He pointed at Kyoomi. “But back to what we were talking about before Miya so rudely hijacked the conversation.”

“Hey! I was just curious!”

Koshi grinned and playfully shoved Miya, who stuck out his tongue. “Tell me, Kyoomi,” he asked. “What made you interested in photography?”

Kyoomi sat silent, eyes roaming the rooftop, flitting over the other patrons sitting around, laughing and talking. “I,” he said, hesitant. “Well, my mother loved to take pictures of the flowers around our house when I was younger.”

“Aw,” Koshi said. “That’s sweet!” He frowned when Daichi shot him a look. “Or, not?”

Kyoomi closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “My house,” he said, opening them. “Burned down when I was thirteen. I lost both my parents.”

“Holy shit,” Miya muttered.

“He decided to be a photographer in honor of his mother,” Daichi added, cringing internally.

“I’m so sorry,” Koshi blurted, slapping both hands down on the table, ears red. “I had no idea!”

Kyoomi shook his head. “It’s fine, really.” He suddenly stood up, pushing his chair back. “I’m just, uh.” He glanced at Daichi. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom, can you order for me?”

Daichi frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

Daichi nodded again. “Okay,” he said, watching Koshi walk away, fists clenched with white knuckles.

“Fuck,” Koshi lamented. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said, head in his hands.

Miya stood up, chair scraping the ground like nails on a chalkboard. “I’ll go check on him,” he said.

“Wait!” Daichi said, the word flying into the void as a second member of the group disappeared down the stairway, back into the depths of the restaurant. He sighed and stared a his hands. “Um,” he said, uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” Koshi stammered. He leaned forward over the table. “Is he ok?” he asked, palms flat on the glass.

Daichi let a smile creep onto his face. “Yeah,” he replied. He looked up, and, seeing the worry on Koshi’s face, leaned in. “Really, you had no idea, it’s ok.” He gave a thumbs up. “He won’t have any hard feelings, I promise.”

Koshi relaxed slightly, looking through the table at the floor, his legs twisted around each other. “Well,” he said. “I’m sorry. I feel really bad.”

Daichi laughed. “Stop apologizing Koshi!”

Koshi sat back and slouched in his chair. “Fine,” he pouted, failing to stop himself from smiling. He glanced at a table behind Daichi, where a man and woman sat, laughing and smiling as they gestured towards a strip of red lights on the rooftop edge. He looked at the lights, eyes running down the length of the strip. Their glow was reflected in his eyes, tiny rubies flitting about with every movement.

“So,” Daichi said, scratching the back of his head. “How did you guys find this place?” He was looking at the night sky, thick, grey clouds obscuring the stars and moon.

“My friend, Tobio, told us about it,” Koshi said. “Brought his boyfriend here when he was in town.” Looking at Daichi, he grinned. “I don’t think there’s much to see up there tonight,” he remarked.

Daichi didn’t move, eyes fixed on the sky. “There’s always something to see,” he said. Hearing Koshi laugh, he wagged a finger at him. “Listen,” he said. “Sometimes you have to appreciate the cloudy days just as much as the sunny ones.”

“You should write that down,” Koshi joked. “Use it to pick up girls.” He shook his head. “Or guys.”

“Y-Yeah.” Daichi spotted a table-toting waiter emerge from the stairway and head for their table. “Ah, shoot,” he said. “We haven’t even looked at the menu yet.”

Miya wove his way through food-filled tables and loudly conversing diners, earning a smattering of glances and even a single, confused yelp of “Miya.” He ignored it all, eyes locked on Kyoomi’s back as he briskly strode to the bathroom. As Kyoomi reached the restroom door, he pulled the wipe back out of his pocket and used it to grab the handle, flinging it open and slipping through before it could swing shut. Miya followed him, stopping just before the door for a moment and steeling himself.

Suddenly, the door shot back open in Miya’s face, nearly whacking him in the nose. “Shit!” he exclaimed. He backpedaled, losing his balance and nearly toppling to the ground. He teetered on one foot for a handful of seconds, eventually righting himself and discovering Kyoomi standing in the doorway, glaring at him.

“What are you doing?” Kyoomi demanded, eyes narrow.

Miya shrugged and attempted to push past him. “Taking a piss,” he said.

Kyoomi raised an eyebrow and stood firm. “No,” he said. “You were following me.”

“I wasn’t,” Miya replied, closing his eyes and bowing. “I promise.”

Kyoomi spun around, scoffing. “You’re a horrible liar,” he declared, motioning for Miya to follow him. “Well come on, take a piss.”

Miya grinned and obliged, rushing forward and jumping in front of Kyoomi, who recoiled, disgust on his face. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t run off,” Miya said.

Kyoomi shrugged. “Well, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did, though.”

“What?”

Miya glanced at a mirror above a row of sinks, taking the moment to observe Kyoomi’s reflection. He stood silent, watching Kyoomi grow impatient. “Koshi didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, voice strangely quiet.

Kyoomi looked at Miya in the mirror, their eyes meeting. “I know that, idiot.” He turned to the sinks and turned one on, pumping soap into his hands. “Doesn’t make the topic any more-“ He broke off, the words catching in his throat. For a moment, the only sound was that of the running water in the sink. “Agreeable,” he finished.

Miya frowned and watched the water cascading over Kyoomi’s hands, washing away tiny, pink suds. “I’m sorry,” he said, walking up beside the photographer.

Kyoomi sighed. “For what?” he asked, shutting off the water and looking around in search of something to dry his hands with.

“For kinda being a dick,” Miya said, scratching his chin. “Well, I guess,” he added. “It’s more for a bad first impression.”

Kyoomi shot him a puzzled look. “Was that not you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“When I met you and Koshi,” Kyoomi said, finding a paper towel dispenser and ripping off a strip. “Was the way you acted a front?”

“Well, no,” Miya said.

Kyoomi shook his head. “Then why are you apologizing?”

“Because!” Miya said. “You clearly weren’t comfortable with it, and I didn’t bother considering your feelings!” To his surprise, Kyoomi smiled.

“Perhaps I should be the one to apologize,” the photographer said, balling up the paper towel and tossing it into a trash can. “You were nothing but yourself, and I didn’t have the decency to greet you properly.”

Miya shrugged. “I don’t think you did anything wrong,” he said. Kyoomi turned away; Miya could have sworn he caught a flash of color rush into the man’s face. “Maybe we just need to be reintroduced?” he offered.

Kyoomi started to make his way to the bathroom door, but stopped a foot away from it. His head leaned forward, as if he was looking at his shoes. “You’re strange,” he said, voice soft. Before Miya could respond, he slipped out, leaving Miya on his own in the restroom.

“What?” Miya said, confused. “What does that even mean?” He furrowed his brows. “What the hell does that mean, fucker?” He stared at the door as it shut with a soft _clack_ , hands on hips. “I’m not strange,” he muttered, pouting. As he stood there, the door opened once more, admitting a short, sticky man. He looked at Miya quizzically as he walked past, but said nothing. “Whatever,” Miya said, slouching forward. “I should get back to the others.”

When Kyoomi arrived back at the table, Daichi and Koshi were sitting next to each other, Koshi leaning in to the young man as Daichi showed him pictures on his phone. “This one’s probably my favorite he’s taken,” Daichi said, eyes sparkling in the screen’s glow. Kyoomi walked up behind Koshi and stared down at him, towering over the model.

“I think you are in my seat,” Kyoomi said, smiling slightly as Koshi jumped and grabbed onto Daichi, hands wrapping around his bicep. Daichi instantly turned red, fidgeting with his phone as he tried to extract himself from Koshi in a panic.

“S-Sorry,” Koshi mumbled, his own face matching the color of a tomato. He let go of Daichi and went around the table back to his spot, opposite the pair.

“N-No,” Daichi said, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he assured, letting out a nervous laugh as he glared at Kyoomi.

Kyoomi sat down, picking up a menu lying in front of him. “Hi,” he said, studying the menu.

“Fuck!” Koshi yelped, startling them. The model’s head sank into his hands, then came to rest on the table, as Miya appeared behind him, a grin plastered on his face as he tried not to laugh.

Daichi shook off his embarrassment and leaned forward, concerned. “What happened?” he asked.

Slowly, Koshi lifted his head, grimacing with his eyes closed. “Miya poked my head,” he said.

Miya guffawed and sat down next to him. “And you had no idea was I there!” he exclaimed.

“Can we order?” Kyoomi asked, not looking away from his menu. “I want to eat.”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He leaned over to Kyoomi. “Are you ok?” he asked, whispering in his ear. Receiving an affirmative nod, he smiled and sat back up.

Miya flipped through his menu, grunting each time he turned a page. “Nothing looks good,” he muttered.

Koshi scoffed. “You’re a picky baby, that’s why.”

“Maybe I just have discerning taste,” Miya countered, taking a break from the menu to stick his tongue out at Koshi.

Daichi skimmed his own menu. “It’s hard to be pickier than Omi, frankly,” he said. Suddenly, he had an idea. He glanced at Kyoomi, smiling hopefully. “What if Omi and Miya shared something and Koshi and I shared?”

Kyoomi slowly looked up from his menu and turned to Daichi, head moving so slowly it was as if he was a broken toy. “Absolutely not,” he declared.

“Why not, Omi?” Miya said, grinning. “I thought you were cool with me now.”

Kyoomi’s eyes blazed. “You don’t get to call me that,” he snapped. “And,” he added, lightly shoving Daichi’s shoulder. “Daichi knows I don’t share food with people, not even him.”

Miya frowned and lowered his head, pouting like a lost puppy. “Aww,” he groaned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Daichi nudged Kyoomi. “Come on,” he said. “Why not do it? There’s a first time for everything?”

Kyoomi opened his mouth to respond, but, seeing a waitress walking up to the table, he clammed up instead.

She was dressed in a crisp, clean white shirt, with a maroon apron, in the pockets of which a small tablet sat. She pulled it out, tapped on the screen several times, then smiled at the group. “What can I get you boys?” she asked, forced cheerfulness oozing through the words.

Daichi gulped, then raised his hand, feeling his heart speed up. Why was he so nervous? “Um,” he said. “Me and him,” he continued, gesturing at Koshi. “Will share a, uh.” He glanced at the menu again, realizing he hadn’t actually decided on something for himself, let alone for another person. “Uh, an endless fettucine alfredo bowl.” He caught Koshi nodding in approval in the corner of his eye and breathed a sigh of relief. 

The waitress nodded, tapping rapidly on the tablet. “Wonderful choice!” she exclaimed, eyes dead. “And you two?” she asked, turning to Miya and Kyoomi.

Kyoomi gave Miya a death stare. “We aren’t sh-“

“We’ll share the chicken parm,” Miya interrupted, flashing the woman a smile. “Thank you.” He looked at Kyoomi and raised his eyebrows, earning an eyeroll.

A few taps later, and the woman walked away.

Kyoomi pulled out his phone, unlocking it. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

“Are you ok with it?” Daichi asked, worried. He watched Kyoomi scroll through his apps.

Kyoomi grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

Kyoomi shook his head. “No, but I’ll be fine.”

Koshi tapped a finger on the table, interrupting them. “If I may,” he said, serious. “Miya and I wanted to ask you something while we were here.”

Miya banged his fist on the table. “Hell yeah,” he said. “I almost forgot.”

Kyoomi groaned, and Daichi regarded Koshi with curiosity. “Oh?” he said.

Koshi smiled. “I know it’s a bit sudden,” he said. “Considering we only met today. But, we felt like we really connected with you guys, and Kyoomi took some amazing shots during the shoot.”

“We wanted you to become our official photographer!” Miya blurted.

“Miya!” Koshi snapped. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “We wanted to hire you and have you trave with us and do all our photoshoots.” He paused and looked out over the rooftop as a siren blared in the distance. “Like I said, it’s really sudden, and we totally understand if you aren’t interested. But we’d love for you to join us.”

Daichi sat back in shock, processing Koshi’s words. “I, uh,” he said. “I don’t know if we can just uproot our lives like that.”

“What do you mean?” sputtered Kyoomi, incredulous. “We live in a tiny apartment and eat ramen for dinner half the time. What exactly would we be uprooting?”

Daichi fell silent, shocked by Kyoomi’s straightforwardness. He looked into Kyoomi’s eyes, which were wide open, expectant. Without warning, Daichi burst into laughter, surprising the others.

“Uh,” Koshi said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Daichi said, waving him off. Recovering himself, he beamed at Kyoomi. “I just never thought I’d hear you talk like that.”

Kyoomi looked down at the table, twiddling his thumbs. “Well, I don’t want to live here forever, and the work would probably be more consistent than what we get now.”

Miya raised a hand. “And I think it would pay better,” he piped in.

Daichi thought for a moment, the noise of conversation fading to a blur. What would happen if they went along with this? How would Kyoomi be able to deal with the travel? Would he be able to keep him safe? He didn’t think Kyoomi was that big of a fan of Miya anyways, so would they get along well?

“You don’t need to answer now,” Koshi interjected. “We don’t leave here for a few more days.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that that’s a lot of time either.”

“Thanks,” Daichi said. “I think we should think about it for a few days before making a decision.” He glanced at Kyoomi, who nodded.

“Sure,” he said.

Koshi leaned back. “Sounds good.”

Miya slapped his hands on the table. “Enough!” he barked. “Right now we are at dinner, so let’s enjoy it!”

“Miya,” Koshi said. “The food isn’t here yet.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it still!”

“Miya,” Koshi repeated, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with you?” He giggled once, coughed, then laughed, throwing his head back. “You’re an idiot,” he gasped. The laughter proved to be contagious; a moment later, Daichi and Miya had joined him, despite the latter not quite understanding what they were laughing at. Kyoomi, meanwhile, rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

“You people are so noisy,” he said. Sitting there, however, watching them laugh, was too much, and he found himself enjoying the cacophony. “So noisy,” he muttered, looking at Miya with an intensity that surprised himself. He wasn’t himself tonight, and for some reason, that didn’t bother him. For now, he was someone else, someone who enjoyed going out, someone who wasn’t burdened by so much worry. For now, he was okay.

And, looking at Miya, he was someone who found the young man’s antics to be oddly endearing.


End file.
